


Dawn of Heroes

by Dragenruler



Category: Bleach
Genre: Adventure, Ancient Wars, Bleach - Freeform, Creatures, Elven, F/M, Fantasy, Fantasy Creatures, Fantasy World, Humans, Love, Magic, Magical, Magical Creatures, Mixed - Freeform, Mixed Breed, Multi, Passion, Romance, Royalty, War, Wars, Witches, ancient, elfs - Freeform, kingdom - Freeform, prince - Freeform, relationships, sorcery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragenruler/pseuds/Dragenruler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Another beast, it mangled her legs. Someone disposed her by the mountains." / It began with an unknowing war, tales of the old still whispered as legends. Two sisters ripped from their world and clan, searching for one another, gets entangled into the war inaccurately remembered. A simple village boy must become a hero while a prince is forced to look beyond his prejudices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. R&R Enjoy…
> 
> A/N: Please excuse any mistake, English is my first additional language while my home language is Afrikaans. Bakgat!

 

Dawn of Heroes

Prologue

Written by Dragenruler

* * *

 

It was an ancient anecdote; the history of their ancestors acknowledged through a barely forgotten tale. The divinity, father of all, once roamed across the growth of the Dales. A humble man, he governed all elven cities across the mainland. His finesse and magical prowess notorious but the rapid prosperity of their kingdom quickly reached the ears of the humans. The alliance between the two kingdoms was delicate and the notion of the recently flourishing elven country worrisome.

There were three immense elven cities; everlasting trees roamed across the lands fabricating a glimmering illusion of utopia. It was an elegant existence, peaceful with unending spells and rituals that took years to accomplish. Over a year, the tension heightened between the two nations and soon it became too much. The great Scourge began. Humans had strength and power. The elven had immortality and sorcery but they were the minority and vastly outnumbered. The Innocent fancied their ancient existence and continued to convey their devotion for that time but the two cities were expeditiously obliterated; the humans razed the magnificent region and conscripted the remaining elven into slums and slavery.

The event was remarkably murderous and caused tremendous distress among the elven and the divinity. The capitol was certain to follow in The Scourge’s destruction. War eradicated too many, and so it was determined. Myths of a ritual, something portentous and yet they were too despondent to fear. Their immortality would be purged and used to provide them the protection they yearned but the knowledge of the severity of the spell was immensely obscured, and the true consequences unknown. The divinity prepared, and soon the ritual began. The earth hectically trembled; severing into lanky tendrils as an impalpable barrier enclosed the whole city. The outside began to gradually fade while the dwellings and greenery inside were demolished, becoming only remnants of the before.

Everything beyond the imperishable barrier evaporated and was instantly restored with the azure-coloured heavens. Clouds lingered above and beside and the earth of the mainland extinct except for a vestige of the Dales. The divinity dissolved before all participants, the light was consuming, blinding, and The Grand Oak immediately sprouted. Immense roots and stubs scoured throughout the sacred temple, dismantling the enclosure as it rapidly spread and grew. The grand oak was magnificent, and teal-glimmering wisps falteringly emerged.

All they knew was lost; their land, existence and the divinity. They had to adapt, and rebuilt remnants of the before with the divinity’s children. Their magic an ethereal illusion that along with their immortality became irretrievable. They tried to mimic the barbaric practices of the humans, desperately trying to rebuild but what they lost was irreversible. Two centuries elapsed and the aspirations of the elven commenced with the birth of the first magical user since the death of the divinity. The tale was overly long and prejudicial.

Hisana laboriously inhaled, promptly shaking her head as she fumblingly tried to exploit the obscurity of the night. The tale of their ancestors regularly swept through the village, often being recited on festivals – or so she was told by the Innocent. Hisana rarely knew of anything outside the knowledge of those mental-bats. She loathed the Innocent, a fraction of clerics that inhibited their temples and citadel, and they reiterated the tale of the elven disgrace daily.

The Innocent was her keepers, assigned to preserve the purity and essence of the divinity’s lineage. Her father, a descendant and current ruler of the only remaining clan, had unquestionably entrusted her life with the clerics. The magic that simmered inside her was foreign to all, and her teaching on the subject was unduly restricted by their ignorance. She was a forgotten elven dream; a relic to be revered and they groomed her for the future as a saviour. Her existence developed in confinement, a vigilant gaze always fixated on her and her actions. They daubed her with extravagant cloths and jewellery, her purity and magic _needed_ to be displayed through her appearance. She was the exemplification of extravagant royalty, admired as the new divinity.

Friends were mere myths and her acquaintances cautiously sifted through for authorization. Her life was everything but her own until the arrival of her sister. Hisana mutely sighed, grovelling in the muck behind the overgrowth of shrubs as she tried to veil herself from her keepers. The hunters were doubtlessly pursuing her but the Hinterlands were rarely scouted through. It was intimidating, the granular sensation of soil smudging across her skin. Eighteen winters old and the thrill of getting dirty was unknown to her.

The Hinterlands was home to the Grand Oak and remnants of the before still drifted throughout the enshrouding forest. The Dales conceived it immoral to venture onto the sacramental lands of the before. The ancestors left due to the assumption of a blighted terrain but the legend of The Grand Oak was also celebrated; those few elven desperate for help would receive it if the Grand Oak found you worthy. A silly superstition she was not meant to learn. Hisana firmly inhaled, clumsily hurdling over the shrub, propelling herself through the overgrowth of the forgotten path.

Her fingers securely entangled in the cloths concealing her bosom, trying to halt the rapid thumping of her heart. A feeble glimmer materialized on her fingertips, the essence of her lineage intensely simmered inside her. The light glittered throughout the night, gradually brightening the darkness. Specks of lustrous power flickered from her palms into the ground. The earth subtly quivered as the soil ruptured apart, tendrils of saplings sprouted and ensconced her trail.

She was oblivious to the creation of Rukia and four summers transpired before she was informed. All descendants of the divinity were to be fostered by the Innocent and Rukia was greeted as a youngling. Laughter constantly filled the temples while she cavorted and cries echoed when her adventures left injuries; she could run and jump and be stained in muck. Rukia was blessed with freedom through the ages and the discipline of the bow. Jealously was inevitable, but the love for her sister grew to be overwhelming. Their relationship was unregulated, her first friendship that the Innocent authorized.

Her sister was the only bit of freedom allowed, her experience of _everything_ suddenly increased, but Hisana knew it would not last and a few moons ago it happened. Rukia vanished and no one remembered. Only Hisana was able to recall those memories. It was horrifying, causing her thoughts to both race and halt. The Innocent quickly dismissed her worried words, disciplining her for her absurd behaviour, but Hisana could not _live_ without Rukia. They prohibited her from leaving the temple, thus her life was immensely restricted. Rukia was her escape, someone had seized her freedom and it was unacceptable, so she devised a plan. 

Her movement was slow and bulky, running was an unfamiliar concept and it was exhilarating. The darkness tickled her bones, her eyes gradually adjusted to the increasing shadows as she wriggled through the dense woodlands. The trees seemed infinite, entwining branches curled towards one another, cloaking the glistening orbs of the night. Her cheeks inflated as she tried to swallow her breath. She was too slow. The hunters would be upon her soon. Her meek incantation would not outlive the energy of the Hinterlands.

Mottles of vivid light promptly flaunted itself before her, instantly plunging further into the icy night. A decrepit voice breathed with the wind, stroking through her long tresses, the darkness engrossed her senses while her heels dug deeper into the muck. The Grand Oak was before her. Its roots delicately stroked her feet. Its imperceptible words distinct as it hummed in an ancient melody. Tiny flecks of wisps falteringly unveiled themselves. They diffidently wobbled towards her, scrutinizing her aura. Magic steadily pulsated underneath her feet, infiltrating her skin when she reached towards the hovering wisps.

Her hair prickled, the wisps frolicking across her skin. The teal-coloured glow immediately enkindled and their movement reverberated. They were captivating. Their light barely penetrated the darkness. The genial murmurs intensified, the ancient voice becoming more incisive. It was instantaneous. The black of night promptly dissipated, glistening teal-hued orbs immediately illuminated her surroundings as an infinite amount of specks announced their presence. More tiny spheres spellbindingly shimmered against her, taunting her. They chaotically flittered, fluently whispering a distant tongue.

“My Kin, what pains you…?”

Hisana’s sinews sorely throbbed, the intensity of the whispers generated puissant flares within her magical essence. A stifled shriek ripped from her, wisps frantically flounced against her head. The sibilating tenor echoed, her heart recklessly palpitated and her psyche deprived of lucid comprehension. Torrents of torturous pain surged throughout her physique compelling Hisana to her knees, slender digits mauled at the muck. Her heart bare and her despair exhibited as the energy scoured through her _everything_.

She was unable to breathe and hysteria rapidly insinuated her thoughts, her figure ferociously quivered… The wisps briskly whirred around her before halting abruptly, the orbs dimming as they waited. Hisana exigently inhaled, her throat searing from the rapid intake. Svelte fingers crimped through the mud when an amiable flare charred against her concealed palms; the dirt illuminating. It was intense, the power, increasing. Seedlings instantly sprouted from the soil, flourishing as it intertwined around her outstretched arms. Her eyes went wide; her breath inflated her cheeks and ruffled against her face as she exhaled.

“The prophecy…” The wisps synchronously whispered. The voice resonated throughout the terrain, ancient and hoary. It became too familiar. “The one, so pure… You are the first since-.” Her gaze became misty, her surroundings evaporated into darkness. The lustrous flare of her hands promptly thrummed, illuminating the emptiness. Nausea spread through her physique as the walloping of her heart intensified. “Fix my faults daughter. They await you.”

Nothing was logical. The blackness instantly devoured her.

* * *

Ostentatious voices stilly echoed. The amorphous void depleted all of her cognition. Her abdomen harshly coiled, nausea itching at her throat as she lolled her head sideways, the exhaustion was overpowering. It was soothing, the presage atmosphere that permeated her physique and lulled her further to sleep. Her eyes fluttered, a tender caress skimmed across her cheek. Her bones eerily crepitated when she sluggishly stirred her stiff sinews.

“She’s not the one. She has no magic.”

It was dark, and extremely humid. Lithe digits burrowed into the moist earth as she firmly compelled herself against a petrous surface. Her joints achingly throbbed. Something happened… She was not home. The Dales presence was excessively magical and resinous, and that bearing atmosphere vanished. An earthy spice lingered, but the soil seemed rotten with impurity. Rukia grimaced, her brows furrowing at the disconnection from the Dales dominated her senses. Every scent and sensation was foreign. She opened her eyes, cautiously blinking the mist from her vision. 

Blackness consumed the atmosphere, an inaccessible pulsation of droplets echoed. A twinkling flame from a candle scarcely illuminated the cavern, strident rocks stemmed from the surface. The light peculiarly etiolated into darkness. Two figures gradually shifted beyond the lustrous glow. She hesitantly swallowed, her palms guardedly shuffled towards her back frantically seeking her bow. Wobbly feet plunged into the moist soil as she yanked herself into a standing position. She was unable to recall…

“She is useless. Depose her.”

Weariness devoured at her physique. Her limbs vigorously quivered at her weight. Rukia tentatively swallowed, frantically trying to clear the miasma concealing her thoughts. She incoherently mumbled her voice brusque as she tried to construct words. A frown adorned her visage when she glared. It was foreign, their words, a tongue never taught to the elven. The soothing whispers of the figures reiterated through her thoughts, trying to decipher the unknown words. “Who’s there?” She screamed in elven.

“Be calm, my child.” An elegant voice uttered the elven immaculate and ancient. Something rapidly festered inside her, immediately soothing the tension within her sinews. Her physique staggered when she relinquished the protruding crag of the petrous cavern, attentively settling her feet in front one another as she shuffled towards the familiar voice. It was distinctly elven. She was home, with her sisters and the hunters. The presence of it was overwhelming; her gaze obscured when the illusion absorbed her mind.

The breeze was intense and the trees high. Multiple lithe figures glissaded beside her, graciously sprinting through the endless trees. The magic was enthralling, stimulating them as they hunted. Her bow delicate against her shoulders and intertwining stilettos swaddled in her boots. Freedom was magnificent. The artistry of the elven terrain, the Dales, was exquisite. The memory instantly altered, reconstructing itself in the form of her sister. Her smile radiant as she and Rukia mutely frolicked to nothing in her chambers, strands of fabric cavorting through the air. Rukia taught her the festival dances in private. The Innocent quickly distorted the memory, their continuous arguments vociferously reinterred throughout her mind.

Her breath faltered and her eyes slightly widened, the illusion instantaneously dissolved. A palpitating ache chafed against her stomach, gradually permeating through her physique. The pain was immediate and paralysing. Rukia automatically shifted her weight, her knees weakened as she narrowed her gaze, the darkness intense. The bitter eyes were indisputable, the glacial visage familiar with the svelte stretch of pure elven ears… Its magical aura was assuaging. The presence of her sister was encompassing. They were the same in essence, but _not_. The confusion was engrossing.

Rukia incoherently mumbled, quivering digits dubiously grazed against the increasing moisture on her stomach. Her gaze rapidly flickered downwards, the dark crimson unmistakable. Shit, she contemplated, her thoughts fleeting as those bitter eyes compelled her to the earth. The pain crippling, a cruel curse escaped from her, exhaustion heavy in her gaze as her surroundings became severely obscured. The energy powerful as it scrubbed through her veins, firmly securing her eyes shut. Her mind coaxing her into a state of comatose; a familiar spell her sister occasionally practiced on the Innocent.

It was wrong. Nothing made sense. Her sister was the first since the divinity, no other currently in existence... _Something was wrong_. This was not home.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I am not ready to really post this but I have reread this so much that it became nitpicking rather than simply editing so I decided to post this and let you guys inform me about how awful this is. 
> 
> I am currently busy with exams and finish next week Wednesday but this story already has three finished chapters written excluding the prologue.
> 
> *This is going to be equally IchiRuki/ByaHisa.
> 
> *This is purely fantasy – I made a map of the lands in Photoshop if anyone wants to see. 
> 
> *Winter is from May-August and Summer from November to middle March for those from the Northern Hemisphere.
> 
> *The rest shall be surprises for you to realise. :)
> 
> ~Dragenruler


	2. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
> 
> R&R
> 
> Enjoy…
> 
> A/N: Please excuse any mistake, English is my first additional language while my home language is Afrikaans. Bakgat!

* * *

**_Dawn of Heroes_ **

**I**

_Written by Dragenruler_

* * *

It was spectacular. The feathery warbles of exotic creatures reverberated through the forest; lustrous illusions were depicted on the earth by the frolicking leaves. The hymns of an unknown nature was stimulating, signalling a connection to the Dales. A stifling gust of air whisked against her, clumsily ruffling her attire and tresses. Freedom was unalike anything. Her barren feet delicately pattered onto the concrete soil, her footfalls subdued as her gaze deliberately wandered. The beauty was inundating, something startlingly foreign.

The Grand Oak was ambiguous, his intentions vague. The energy within her shimmered, chaotically flaring through her feet. Her steps sprouted white-coloured wildflowers. Hisana recalled the scorching pain, her emotions displayed; ancient power permeating her physique and the vivid darkness but it was instantaneous. The blackness evaporated into the greenery of earth, grass and muck firmly captured in her hands as she sprawled across the forest. The Hinterlands disappeared, replaced with a foreign terrain. She had noisily chortled at the realisation. The Grand Oak perceived her worthy, and blessed her with her desire. Her sister was here, somewhere among the foreign lands.

Hisana shyly tugged a lengthy lock of hair behind her ear, her gaze slowly analysing the majestic terrain. It was more pragmatic, the atmosphere, in this world but the intense rays of sunlight was blinding. The heat was immense; droplets cascaded across her visage as she continued her path along the dirt road. Magic continuously pulsated through the earth and the aroma of strange beings dominated the air. The dissimilarities between the Dales and this earth were infinite but her knowledge about the Dales was limited to Rukia’s tales, the Innocent and her rushed movement through the Hinterlands. A muffled sigh escaped from her, her fingers lingered against the jagged bark of a tree. Nature usually whispered the most intriguing events.

It breezily murmured the history of the region, its roots extensive. Visions of multiple assaults between anomalous beings infiltrated her thoughts, their hatred and anger distinct, but rare moments of peace and joy persisted beside the despair. Humans… They were flat-ears within the tale of the elven disgrace. Hisana mutely mouthed the word as the images flaunted themselves. Their features were mystifying, extremely exotic and unsymmetrical with bulky physiques. Another depiction infiltrated her mind. The existence of short-ears was known to this world; the blood of ancient elven almost gone within them.  

It was informative, but the region of nature had no recollection of her sister. She graciously bowed, thanking the tree in an ancient tongue before tentatively continuing her path. Her puerility was distinct; her flippant behaviour overwhelmed the desire to locate her sister. This adventure was incredible, her steps lithe and quick as she strutted through the greenery. Nature constantly pulsated into her feet, the essence lusting, coaxing her magic to surge. Era’s swept passed these lands without the regulation of an enchanter, the penetrating power was irresistible. The flat-ears thoughtlessly neglected such magic.

Saplings spurted between her toes, the greenery entangled around her legs while Hisana’s gaze gradually perceived the newly constructed environment. Colours were extirpated from the woodlands images. White ambiguous figures lethargically plied across the earth, mere fading shadows as they detectably illustrated the profiles of their owners. The earth rapidly pulsated, nearby dwellings unknown by the roots of the woodlands disclosed themselves. A village was near, brimming with flat-ears and a few short-ears.

The Innocent censored her usage of magic, restricting her to discipline her knowledge of it rather than allow her the merriment such power possessed. Her abilities were mysterious and the deluging essence immediately enthralled her. Truthfully, she had no notion of her actions. Her behaviour was currently being dictated by the direction of the land’s deserted essence; guiding her as it transuded through her physique. It was awfully fun. The strength of discovering her sister was within her. Rukia was amongst all the fascinating beings occupying the region and Hisana had the abilities to locate her. The earth appeared endless and the quest seemed tremendous but the Grand Oak knew.

He perceived her emotions, permeated her being and essence, while he bestowed her with more essence to govern. The Grand Oak retained knowledge of all. They were kinsmen, their heritage formidable, and Hisana refused to acknowledge its ability of deceit regardless the enigmatic message. The lore surrounding The Grand Oak was accurate, the magic of the before poignant in the Hinterlands, authenticating certain aspects of the tale of the elven destruction and The Scourge. Which meant this earth was from the before?

The region of the before, and the elven exiled themselves. It was baffling, the elven were sundered from the land. No association between the flat-ears and elven existed since The Scourge. She was unaware that humans survived. They concluded that the original region was eradicated when the divinity recited the ritual but Hisana was conscious of her ignorance. The Innocent were not voluble clerics and Rukia perceived more having obtained all anecdotes from the clan members but Rukia never disclosed of life beyond the Dales.

The peculiarity of Rukia’s disappearance, all recollection of her and her property seized from the Dales, was suspicious but the speculation around _how_ Rukia was transported to a piece of the before was enigmatic. The familiar clutter of a bustling village echoed throughout her thoughts, her gaze shifting upwards towards the impenetrable woodlands. The clamour of society repressed the foreign warbles of creatures and nature. Earth rapidly palpitated with increasing essence as she neared, dubiously sluing a sprig from her gaze.

The sensation of familiarity immediately insinuated her physique, her gaze trekking the movement of loutish flat-ears. Numerous hovels strewed across the earth and scorched pathways writhed towards all dwellings within the village; lofty wooden structures concealed the charm of the woodlands. Their development was marvellous, immensely diverse compared to the Dales. The elven village resembled a decrepit replica of the flat-ears. Hisana mutely giggled, memories of peering at her people through endless windows infiltrated her thoughts. It was all she knew.

Her gaze fixated onto a nearby family relaxing behind a dwelling; two youthful girls dallied around as their flat-eared mother peacefully plucked a fowl bare. Hisana clumsily shifted, the greenery concealing her rustled. Many questions regarding humans promptly surged through her thoughts, and the uncertainty of her surroundings became greatly evident. She had the power, magical essence strummed along her fingertips but her naivety of the region was a sizeable disadvantage. Rukia cautioned her about her lack of awareness. Her purity of all was proudly sustained by the Innocent.

All she recognized of ventures were from tales reiterated through the life of her sister but she maintained that help would be given to those in need. Someway someone would provide guidance. Humans were like the elven, only with flat-ears and bungling features. They were practically kinsmen. Hisana firmly nodded, shuffling through the greenery as she disclosed her location to the bustling family. Their gazes instantly prickled her skin. The mother hesitantly scrutinized her physique, her distant eyes lingering on her exposed wrists.

“May I ask for assistance?” Hisana hesitantly asked her fingers idled along the sprouting buds of flowers. “What is the name of the land, and this hamlet?” The mother immediately ushered towards her younglings, releasing the bald fowl, her voice barely audible as she called their names and signalled for someone inside the house. Hisana waved, their startled response was disconcerting, shuffling closer towards them.

“Mommy, she is odd!”

The child’s words were perceptible but its significance foreign. A frown instantly adorned her visage, the meaning of their dialect unfathomable. Another tongue besides the elven existed? It was nonsensical. Certainly such knowledge would have been documented after The Scourge. Her movement faltered, fingers dubiously fiddled along her elongated ears while her gaze flickered downwards. Hisana incoherently mumbled, distractedly trying to rationalize her chaotic thoughts. She was unable to comprehend their tongue, which meant they also did not understand _her_. Communication would be problematic. Hisana hesitated, realisation spread across her visage, her movement clumsy as she shuffled to retreat into the sanctuary of the forest.

Sprigs gratingly clawed at her face, her physique briskly heaved backwards immediately halting her escape. Her chest abnormally thudded while nausea assembled in her abdomen and dread infiltrated her mind. Something salient slashed at her wrist, the metallic substance acrid against her skin. It noisily snapped, firmly secured in its tight position. Hisana gasped, torrents of tortuous spasms propelled through her body, immediately paralysing her. Her knees brutishly collided against the earth, the grandiose essence of nature rapidly diminished. Bile surged from her mouth, her pleas incongruous grumbles, expectorating the vomit. The bitter metal enclosed around her wrist howled as its energy swept through her, vitiating her power and wholly consuming her mind.

It was agony. Her mind forced empty, her body embracing the hollow earth. No magic, the gentle pulsation of essence and knowledge seized from all. The atmosphere was peculiarly bleak, she pondered, her vision obscured and her physique frantically quivered. It hurt badly… Hisana wept, tears smudged across her face as the shadows urged her further into torpidity.

“She’ll make for decent coin.”

* * *

 Icy water dampened her physique. Hisana hectically scuffed her feet across constant lurching wooden floorboards, eyes wide with hysteria. Her body rapidly convulsed, sinews vehemently crackled when she scrambled against the metallic enclosure, bitter iron bars gouged into her exposed back. Drenched tresses adhered to her face as droplets spewed across her skin, sousing her clothes. Her chest erratically palpitated with her acute breathing, fingernails scoured over the wood further thrusting herself into a posture of retreat.

The sensation of illness embroiled along her insides, wholly depleting her energy. She dropped her gaze, hauling her knees towards her chest. Everything ached, the tortuous spasms lingered while inquisitive gazes pursued the slender slope of her elongated ears and symmetrical facial features. Her frazzled gaze warily wandered over the wooden floorboards, perceiving various muck incrusted feet, the lurching movement of the foreign contraption urging her anxiety to ease.

“Water helps for consciousness…” A hefty voice snickered, the words indecipherable as another crude bellow of laughter declared the existence of his partner. Prodding fingers enclosed around her moistened locks, brutishly propelling her head against the metal. A dull aching throbbed through her tightly coiled sinews; constricting ropes securely bound her to the iron bars. The metallic band nicked at her wrists, the nasty sensation of crusting blood decorticating from her skin, fresh blood replaced the old. Hisana briskly inhaled, her chest inflating from the pressure and her eyes wide.

Peculiar resembling flat-ears littered among her in the cage. Their ears pointed, sharp but absurdly short like humans and features just as loutish. The short-ears the forest disclosed, more human than elven but their heritage still distinct. Hisana languidly groaned his grip tightened while her gaze remained fixated on the foreign creatures. Their eyes curious and their posture meek, secured against the cage. The contraption wobbled and the prattling of animal footfalls continued, pebbles hurling at her exposed skin. Their terror was discernible. Tears crystallized at her eyes, daubing her visage. Fatigue enthralled her mind, her fingers lurching against the restraints as she indistinctively tried to beckon her magic.

The faint touch of power wafted through her limbs, immediately paralysing her as the metallic armlet seared her skin. It maniacally buzzed; the thrilling drone ravaged the subdued essence. Nausea shot through her abdomen, regurgitating when the man hurriedly relinquished her returning to his previous position beside his partner. Hisana choked, incoherently snivelling while her chest rapidly heaved. Her circumstances seemed incomprehensible. The various tales illustrating the inhumanity of man were not fictitious distortions?

The Grand Oak and her sister… Rukia was amongst these creatures.  Sorrow festered inside her chest, her breathing arduous allowing the tribulation to further permeate into her physique, completely exhausting her psyche. She did not understand. That family, she meant no harm to them and only sought information. Was her behaviour perceived as hostile to humans? Was she to be punished? The atmosphere surrounding her was immensely lugubrious.

The despondency was smothering. She wearily jiggled her fingers, the rope scathing, recklessly trying to conjure her powers again. Escaping would be easy, Hisana contemplated, thickly swallowing as dread gnarled through her physique, fixating onto the magical. The murmuring hum was innate, almost imperceptible. It was near. Her skin prickled, metaphorical fingers barely grazed the unrefined power. Immediate tortuous spasms jolted through her while the armlet buzzed, viciously lacerating her wrist. Nausea erupted through her abdomen, rapidly surging towards her throat compelling her too abruptly swallow the vomit. It hurt… The pain lingered while the throbbing intensified.

Tears glided across her cheeks. Gone, she was incapable of summoning _anything_. It was there, the metallic armlet that encircled her wrist, firmly scorching her skin. Nothing was talking. Her mind echoed from the unfamiliar silence. Hisana grudgingly blinked her eyebrows furrowing, unable to understand her circumstances. They took it. Her being was unreachable; the harmonious hymn of magic extirpated with its existence incomprehensible. The prosaic reality of nature was distressing, her chest briskly thumped as she crudely inhaled. She _felt nothing_. Everything felt abnormally empty. All she knew was her essence, it was her life. Her rearing was screened. Hisana knew of nothing beyond the tales of her sister and books and the comfort of magic.

Worthless, her lips trembled as she snivelled, coiling closer towards the bitter bars of her cage. The silence was enthralling, her gaze lingering on every short-ear, gradually discerning her uselessness. The sorrow was stifling. She had no power, _no skill_. Hisana did not understand her only goal was to retrieve her sister. She did not mean to harm anyone.

* * *

Daylight was rapidly ebbing. The vibrant hues of red and yellow depicted beyond the sky, fabricating the glistening orange contours that enclosed the setting sun. Nightfall would be soon. The darkness chafed at the light, aching to wholly devour it, a multitude of flickering orbs proliferated as the shadows of night began to consume the margins of the heavens. It was magnificent to witness such illogical artistry of nature unknown to the Dales; its allure would be more appreciated if not for her current circumstances. The trees stirred, crepitating, the gust strident against her prickling skin compelling her physique to clumsily quiver. Nature was reticent; the only echo of its existence was of a desolate howl of a foreign creature.

Flickers of the lingering daylight continuously deviated through the shifting leafs, the greenery mute. Predators were stalking through the woodlands probably very near, Rukia speculated while scarcely scrutinizing her surroundings, her expertise as a hunter fruitful. Incoherent grumbles spewed from her, reluctantly withdrawing her gaze from the majestic panorama, a palm rigidly thrust against her stomach. The moisture was foul against her skin; her garbs adhered to her oozing gash. She fainted, the tension of her bewildered state overwhelmed her from the abduction and attempted killing, only to be forsaken to death in a foreign world. The nibbling of her blood plastered hand by an exotic creature had waked her, the agonizing twinge that circulated through her abdomen was almost paralysing but she refused to acknowledge defeat.

The pain only intensified since then, her limbs hectically trembled as she trudged on, feebly settling one foot in front of the other. Rukia tediously groaned, her physique slightly flattered forward while her foot gouged into the muck, abruptly halting her fall. Exhausted determination flared through her eyes while a frown securely settled on her visage, lifting her blood incrusted hand, acknowledging the tortuous pain that surged through her nerves. A terrain brimming with creatures unfamiliar to her, doubtlessly hunting her but it was not intimidating. She was deemed as the best, most skilled hunter of the elven. Rukia needed to get back to The Dales, the world _felt_ awry. Something was wrong. She was not their mark, Rukia had deduced, which indicated she resembled their original target.

They were pursuing Hisana.

Rukia shifted, frantically sidestepping shrubs as she tried to manoeuvre through the overgrowth of the woodlands, her groans and whimpers drawling. The shadows of nightfall almost completely ravaged the daylight, few glints of light continued to linger. Smeared tears shrivelled on her cheeks, the strength of the gust increasing. She needed to reach the Dales! Her sister… Another howl echoed through the ebbing twilight, the bellow nearing, signalling the start of the creatures hunt. Rukia cautiously peered behind her; her gaze tracking the infinitesimal droplets of blood that probably indicated her path from the moment she woke. Her scent was everywhere, and to a predator unmistakable. Fuck, she needed a strategy. She sighed, stiffly plummeting against the crude bark of a tree, her fingers unwittingly scraping against the husk trying to deaden her fall.

Rukia fanatically heaved, tortuous spasms coiled throughout her stomach completely paralysing her physique. Desperately inhaling, writhing further against the biting bark, vehemently swearing at herself. Her thoughts faltered, weariness tugged at her eyelids as she torpidly blinked, snorting at her body’s debility. She glanced downwards, vaguely assimilating the amount of crimson plastering her light-coloured dressings, inattentively settling her hand against the husk of the tree. The silence became engrossing. An incoherent giggle escaped from her, the absurdity of the alleviating effect the silence provided was humorous, especially because of her hatred for anything quiet. Fucking ass, Rukia thought, the pain was exhausting. It had been hours since she woke, and the wound still refused to clot. The moisture was sickening.

A menacing snarl startlingly emanated beside her, her chest briskly thudded, her eyes narrowed as her head heaved towards the origins of the disquieting rumble. She gravely underestimated its distance; ghoulish eyes sprucely emerged through the greenery, revealing grisly features. Terror immediately halted her movement. A feral snout dominated most of its features, strident incisors protruding from its mouth, porcine eyes vigilantly observed. His grotesque, loutish physique predatorily hunched forward, stooping on its knuckles as it approached, bestially grunting. The creature sceptically lifted its snout, thoroughly sniffing before it gloated with a howl, the illusion of a simper tugged at its lips, spittle oozing between the protruding incisors. Fucking shit what was that, Rukia frantically thought, ogling with wide eyes while her chest derivatively halted with air, her sinews tightly coiled with dread.

She sluggishly lolled her head against the harsh husk, deeply furrowing her forehead, scowling as she tried to calculate an escape strategy. All her strength was depleted and her kidnappers had confiscated her concealed stilettos. Fleeing was the only feasible option. Her eyes dilated, adrenaline surged through her physique, nails gouging into the bark preparing to haul herself upwards. A mordant twinge rhythmically pulsed throughout her abdomen and lingered in her extremities, her teeth firmly clenched while she compelled movement into her arms. Her fingers skid across the crusting bark when she tried to haul herself upwards, sorely tumbling onto the ground, whimpering. She cursed, desperately clutching onto her fluctuating abdomen. The pain was agonizing, her eyes lolling sideways as rancid wisps of air whistled across her visage.

Long salient claws burrowed into her legs, savagely flaying the skin and sinews. A torrid scream unwittingly echoed through the dense forest, her breathing laborious and her thoughts distorted. Nothing made sense except the tormenting pain. Her body quivered, its face inching closer, relishing in her suffering. “Too close…” Rukia muttered, strenuously propelling her head forward, ruthlessly colliding with the creatures’ snout. It irritatingly hollered, stumbling before settling in front of Rukia once more, its claws adamantly rooted in her legs. Tears cascaded across her cheeks, the aching pain tortuous, both her mind and body vehemently insisted for slumber. Her legs trembled as she briskly upheaved her feet, vigorously striking the pads of her feet into its bristly stomach.

It immediately relinquished her legs, salient claws skimmed across her feet while blood wept from its nails, its loutish physique stumbling backwards. Distance, this would be her last opportunity. Rukia lunged forward, tumbling onto her hands and knees. She whimpered from the collision, the earth rocklike. Her stomach coiled, crudely regurgitating as she compelled her body to crawl. Sinews crepitated, her wounds palpitating, the aching overwhelming but defeat was unacceptable. Her eyes gradually drooped, exhaustion irresistible and completely subduing the ravenous howl from behind her grovelling position.

Rukia vowed only for a second, to regain some strength, and securely closed her eyes. Her mind obscured, shadows swayed behind her concealed eyes. A piercing shot reverberated throughout the forest quickly followed with a sequence of thundering arrows, the familiarity of the noise soothing and ushered her further into slumber. Her figure lurched, spread palms cumbrously strained forward as she plummeted forward, blood exuding from her mouth. A petrifying howl perforated through the darkness, Rukia languidly blinked her vision bleary and obscured. Shadows briskly shuffled closer, warmth immediately encased her and her coiled sinews slackened.

The inviolable sensation overwhelmed her, the warmth secure as her body swayed with pressure. Rukia incoherently whispered, the exhaustion ensnaring her further into slumber, she was safe. She knew she would survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This seems overly wordy for me… I apologize. Not really. Cannot promise when next update will be. But please enjoy this one. 
> 
> *From next chapter onward Rukia and Hisana words will appear in another language, an Elven language I created by myself.  
> *The Map will be uploaded tomorrow night to my profile; sorry about it being late but only from next chapter onward will use town names. 
> 
> This is a pure joy for me to write, to please be honest when you review –even to simply tell me who horribly hard it is to understand what I am saying. 
> 
> R&R
> 
> ~Dragenruler


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